


Twists

by cathymee



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Incest, M/M, Moresomes, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22901038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathymee/pseuds/cathymee
Summary: The Ring calls.
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/The Fellowship of the Ring
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	Twists

**Author's Note:**

> well this is so embarrassing
> 
> f
> 
> Disclaimer:
> 
> The characters and places mentioned in this fanfiction were made by Tolkien himself, and were merely borrowed for the sole purpose of entertainment.

It started when the Ring's call suddenly got louder. That night, just a few weeks ago, when eight pair of eyes looked at him with various emotions displaying: confusion, to panic, to _lust_. Gandalf had told them to turn away, cover their ears and eyes and everything, and Frodo ran from their camp, only to be retrieved back by the wizard. They refused to look at each other's eyes.

But now he's on his lap, with his head resting upon  
his chest, listening to his heartbeat and being tickled by his grey beard. Frodo whines as old, wrinkled hands took hold of his thighs, spreading them apart gently. Frodo's fingers gripped Gandalf's wrists. His whole frame shook. He remembered his trembling voice just hours ago, Frodo Baggins, a respectable, responsible, and well-mannered Hobbit, moaning and rubbing his hips on Sam's, and begging to be _fucked_ , to get the Ring to just _stop_.

They'd continued their journey awkwardly, after that first call. Sam, dear, sweet Sam, held his hands as they shook with anxiety and fear everyday— so similar to those days when Frodo wasn't allowed to wear things that he wears now, when he wasn't allowed to cut his hair the way he wanted, when he was referred to as "the Brandybuck lass"; back when he wasn't himself— while the Ring still sang and whispered, and Frodo doubts that the Fellowship cannot hear It. It sang about their desire, about their rough hands and rougher mouths, smooth skins and lustful moans. Frodo's cheeks were flushed, his breathing almost frantic.

But now he _moans_ , as Merry's wandering hands caressed his chest and Pippin's little mouth urged his' to open, his young hands squeezing one side of his bosom, his pink tongue eager and quick as the young hobbit explored. He's pretty sure it was Aragorn who replaced Gandalf's hands. They were firm but still gentle, unlike Boromir's— he knew, for one hand held his wrists, guiding it towards the soldier's cock.

Sam was the one who stayed with him, telling him stories of home or about Bilbo's journey just to keep him distracted. It was Sam's voice that could lull him to sleep, and Sam's hands that could keep him calm. Those hands now held his flushed cheeks, his gardener's face close to Pippin's, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, to his nape, and Frodo cried out against Pippin's lips as one calloused finger slid in teasingly.

Stars shone above them, wheeling their way through the sky, just like how Legolas' light touches wheeled their way on his waist, both for comfort and pleasure, making him shiver. Gimli's beard caressed his thighs, and to his surprise, he felt a tongue lightly replace Sam's fingers, and the Dwarf's hands steadied his quivering hips and Pippin's mouth suck on his tongue.

The forest seemed so eerily _quiet_. Frodo's sure that his moans would echo, and so he brought his right hand to cover his parted mouth when Pippin left, only to put it away again when Pippin kissed his temples and thread his fingers on his older cousin's hair. Frodo opened his mouth, expecting a kiss. But his blue eyes snapped open when he felt Boromir's hand caress his cheek. The man stood in front of him, his cock just mere inches from Frodo's face. The Hobbit gulped, yet, closing his eyes once more, wrapped his lips upon the head.

Boromir was the first one to moan quite loudly, and Frodo hummed happily with the thought that _he_ was the reason. He licked experimentally on the tip, and it brought forth another moan from the man. Large hands gripped his hair, yanking it, though not too roughly. Frodo complied.

He had done it before. He remembered, of course, for why would he not? It felt bizarre, to do it with _Lotho_ , of all people, but he _was_ young, and all he knew is that he _needed_ to learn. He remembered the moans that his cousin tried to muffle, he remembered gripping Lotho's thighs and letting the older one's fingers run through his dark, dishevelled hair, and he remembered hollowing his cheeks...

Ah, there it was! It was just like how Lotho responded, but louder... _raw_. Boromir always seems so strong, so huge— no wonder his voice also boomed like thunder.

So distracted was he of the pleasure that he was giving the Steward's son that he did not expected Gandalf to slip inside his rear. The wizard groaned loudly while Frodo moaned against the girth on his lips, his eyes squeezing shut and his brows furrowing. The vibration coming from his throat made Boromir hiss, and Frodo was reminded of his task and sucked while trying to move, trying to let Gandalf know that he wants to be filled. "My dear boy," the wizard whispered against the back of his head, littering it with gentle kisses, giving Frodo time to adjust. The Ring-bearer has no time for that, though, and the lad tried to bounce, squirming and trying to pull out and back in, but Legolas' hands on his waist steadied him, while Gimli's hands returned to his thighs along with the Dwarf's tongue returning to the Hobbit's walls.

Gimli's tongue disappeared right after and Frodo whined with the loss, until Aragorn's long, thick fingers replaced it, kneading and teasing and Frodo knew that he's wet. Pippin moved to his right side and thrusts against his hips. Frodo pushed him gently away and caught his cousin's cock on his hands, wrapping his fingers and feeling Pippin shiver. Hands no longer played with his chest, and Frodo wondered where Merry had gone off to. He opened his eyes, still bobbing his head back and forth and gripping Boromir's thighs as if he's going to fall over. His hand still worked on Pippin's length, but Merry's own hand added to it. Pippin cried out— Frodo noticed that Merry was burying himself on Pippin, and his eyes rolled with pleasure that Aragorn's fingers gave him.

Sam disappeared, somehow, from his line of vision— granted all he could see now is his cousins fucking right beside him, and Boromir's cock still on his mouth. Gandalf moved him and now he's on his knees, kneeling in front of Boromir, as the wizard shifted behind him, finally finally moving, filling him up. Frodo cried out with every thrusts, Boromir's cock still in his mouth, Aragorn digging two fingers deep, in tandem with Gandalf behind him. His hands squeezed Pippin's cock, and his young cousin cried out. Warm, sticky liquid clung to his hair and cheeks, dripping to his shoulders, and Sam's tongue licked it away right after, his hands kneading one nipple. Boromir slid away, and Aragorn's fingers stopped.

His lids are closed yet he could see them all move. Gandalf pulled out of his ass, his cum covering Frodo's hole, and Frodo whined, trying to move back and fit in right again, for he could still feel the tip bursting, just behind him.

"Good lad," the wizard cooed. Aragorn's fingers left. Frodo felt something drip from his pussy, and he opened his eyes to see Aragorn sucking his own fingers with a teasing light in his eyes. Sam chuckled when his Master's cheeks flushed even more.

Gandalf scooted away when Legolas nodded his head quickly to him, in a silent agreement. The Elf's cock was long, it's tip pressing on his rear, and Frodo let out a soft cry when Legolas' girth slipped inside easily. Boromir, with his length bobbing in the air, moved away from the kneeling Hobbit. Frodo wants to reach out and touch him, fill his mouth with that hot cock once more. But then Aragorn caught his hands, kissed it gently, looked into his eyes. And Frodo understood.

Aragorn's cock is _huge_ and Frodo's aware that he's almost _screaming_. Legolas' fingers on his shoulders, digging quite painfully, his pussy being filled by his friend's hot length, and the way his knees is almost burning— he enjoyed it, wanted more of it.

And then Boromir's there again, and Frodo set to work without being commanded. Gimli appeared at his side and Frodo looked into Boromir's eyes, his blue eyes catching the reflection of the bright stars in the sky, giving him such an angelic look amidst the fact that there are _cocks all over him_. Boromir nodded, and Frodo's hand is so little but still so satisfying. The soldier watched as Frodo took Gimli in, looking so right, _kneeling_ there...

Boromir's seed coated half of the Halfling's face and chest, and he was aware of Legolas coming inside his rear and Aragorn pulling out and letting his seed drop on Frodo's stomach. With it came his own climax, and Aragorn fingered him through it, touching his folds. It was Gimli who came last, and Frodo swallowed. At least he did, for now he was collapsing, down into the Elf's arms, with the Ring pulsing bright in his chest, and he does not have the strength to push It away. He felt limp all over. He's aware that Sam is calling to him, and one Elvish hand threaded lightly through his fingers, but he doesn't want to move. Not yet.

They seemed to understand, though, thankfully. It was Gandalf who ordered them to move and be clothed, while Sam prepared his bed roll, and Legolas carried his shivering body and placed it there, his head hitting the soft pillow and his naked form ceasing their shivers when a warm blanket covered it.

"It's alright, Frodo," Aragorn whispered, "it's done. Go to sleep."

And he noted, with delight and triumph, that the Ring is _quiet_.


End file.
